


Heat In The Skull

by easternCriminal



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Avatar!Tim, Dead Kittens, Desolation!Tim, Drabble, Gen, Tim centric, You Decide, canon character death, or maybe alive kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easternCriminal/pseuds/easternCriminal
Summary: If you asked Tim when the fire that rippled under his skin started, he would say as long as he could remember. That maybe he came out on the delivery table on fire, like a baby in some kind of folklore. Maybe his parents had actually found him in an abandoned fireplace in the woods - he always said it with a laugh and a little crease in his eyes.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Heat In The Skull

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in denial about both Tim and Sasha, so I wrote this.

If you asked Tim when the fire that rippled under his skin started, he would say as long as he could remember. That maybe he came out on the delivery table on fire, like a baby in some kind of folklore. Maybe his parents had actually found him in an abandoned fireplace in the woods - he always said it with a laugh and a little crease in his eyes. 

Of course no one phrased it like that, ‘fire under his skin’ is so dramatic, and not actually true. He just ran hot, as people go. Relished in the heat of the sun and all throughout his high school was one of those kids still wearing a pair of shorts despite the snow that had piled up five feet high over the night. Sandals, too, somedays, in order to complete the look. The exact opposite of the friend with constant cold hands, cheeks often flushed and seeming to exude heat. One time, during recess, in the middle of a very intense game of capture the flag, it had started to rain. So sudden was the downpour and so hot was Tim from running around that steam lightly came off of him. 

Not quite a supernatural character trait, but an odd one to be sure. 

When Tim was eleven he caught some kids throwing rocks into the river, aiming for a soggy canvas bag that had the loud and desperate yowls of kittens from inside of it. He ran full speed into the first one he saw, both of them landing on the mud and rocks and grass and had punched him as hard as he could. It had felt gratifying, and a deep bonfire inside of him flared up at the fight and urged him onwards, until the other two ganged up on him. 

Later, lying on the shore, staring up at the sky and trying to deny the fact that eventually he’d have to go home and there was no way to hide his black eye, he would curse his hot headedness. Shouldn’t have gone for the boys. He should have ran into the river instead, grabbed the bag. He didn’t go home until long after the sun had set, walking up and down the river, straining his ears, hoping to year the mewling of those cats. 

He didn’t, but he found an empty canvas bag, and it might have been the right one. And it might have been a different one. But it was the closest thing to closure with the cats he would get. 

Tim didn’t take advantage, really, of his propensity to run hot. At least, not until he started running away from home. He never stayed away for long, a night at most. And he never got far. He’d find himself sitting on a bench in front of a bus stop, eyes tracing paths and routes on the nearby map, occasionally getting distracted by the rivulets of melted snow that ran down the shiny plastic surface. And then he would stop. And he’d think of Danny, all alone in the house now. 

The moment Danny turned 18, he packed up, got a flat, and took Danny with him. 

For the next few years, the feeling of warmth inside of him was quiet. Just a calm, constant warmth that mostly meant he didn’t waste too much air on heating in the winter. Tim worked at the publishing house and made friends and charmed co-workers and rose in the ranks. If anything, it began to cool down. The distance from his childhood home, from things that had made him have to burn bright, because no one else was willing to offer him torches with which to see by, those days were long past. 

No more fire, just warm coals. 

And then Danny- 

When he gets out of, back into the familiar and  _ safe _ streets, Tim crumbles to the ground and cries out until his voice is hoarse and his tears they are hot and heavy against his skin and roll down his cheeks in waves. It feels like his stomach is being ripped out and throat is constricted. That face, Danny’s terrified face, has  _ burned _ into his mind, into his skull. The raging fire inside of him hurts, and yet he finds himself reveling in it. Like it’s some kind of penance. Cleansing. 

Tim is different after that. His old fire from childhood is back, and it feels like a beast that has taken up residence in his chest cavity. Tim chalks it up to the feeling of loss, of mourning. But even he, on some scale, can tell there’s something different about it. 

The first time that the fire does something… different, unusual, is when Tim kisses Sasha for the first time. He goes for the cheek, but she stops him, and turns her head, and instead Sasha leans forward to land one on his lips. Sasha is the first person he really got… close to, after the incident with his brother. And when they kiss he can feel something pass between them, something hot and crackling with life. She flinches back for a moment, surprised at the heat, and he begins to fumble out an apology but instead she leans in for another kiss. 

They don’t talk about that night, much. It was too fast for both of them. He thinks that some day, they could be there. But their relationship is more of a slow burn than that, and they revert back to playful nudges and fingers that just barely brush one another. 

It happens two other times before his world changes forever. One time, when Martin had brought them all breakfast on their first archive year anniversary, and Tim had been so excited he had circled his arms around Martin and planted a kiss on his cheek. And the second with a sarcastic bow to Jon, the words ‘whatever you demand your highness’ in a teasing voice after Jon asked him to do a follow up with one of the statements, and he had taken Jon’s hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. 

The same heat. The same feeling like something jumping from him to the other.

After Sasha is gone, Tim stops caring. He cannot go through this again. The fire rages brighter and he knows he is burning himself from the inside out. Bright and hot but born to be short lived. 

So he goes to the circus, and dies. 

And then he doesn’t. 

Tim rises from the ashes of his own dead body, shaking off the flakes. For a moment, he is only fire, reds and oranges and yellows that flickers in an only vaguely human shape.

The other’s find him in the wreckage, laying on the ground, staring up at the sky, and it feels like he is by the childhood river again. Except this time the kittens… he knows with a sureness that they are dead, he cannot sense the warmth of life anywhere in the rubble around him. They are dead and he helped kill them. He closes his eyes, wishing to die, even as he senses the body heat of the others as they approach him. Distantly, he can feel the little flame he gave Martin. A piece of his own inner fire that had passed to the man. When it went out, he would know, and it would only go out when Martin’s own spark of life went out. Like Jon’s piece, which was little more than a wisp of smoke now. 

And then Tim jerks forwards, sitting up, energy and awareness filling him with such a surge of shock. Because one other flame, the only other flame he had ever given to someone, even if it was unintentional at the time. It is still alight. 

Somewhere, Sasha is alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you thought in the comments! 
> 
> I also do art! Check my out on the-east-art.tumblr.com


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